


Mission

by novelless



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: 1960s, F/M, I don't want to spoil it hehe, Missions, Spy - Freeform, casefic, surprise character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28310358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novelless/pseuds/novelless
Summary: Illya, Gaby, and Napoleon have been undercover on a simple extraction mission. When someone shows up from Illya's past, Gaby is not too thrilled, and it could mean a poor end for UNCLE's long anticipated success of the mission.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Napoleon Solo & Gaby Teller
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14
Collections: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Winter Holiday Gift Exchange 2020





	Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firelord65](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/gifts).



> Hi firelord65! I'm your secret santa :D I hope you enjoy this late night induced fic. It isn't exactly where I'd like it do be but I hope it does your requests some justice <3 Merry christmas!!!

She had a continuous headache for days now. Despite being exhausted to the point of finding it too difficult to stand in the shower, she still found it difficult to fall asleep at night. Their long running undercover mission would finally be coming to a close within the next week, and Gaby could hardly wait until then. This had been her life once-- dancing ballet for long hours of the day, only to get home, sleep, and do it all over again. She liked the sport well enough, but when she finally quit her training all those years ago, she never thought she would be lacing up her ballet slippers again. Least of all for a mission.

"Sabine,” Illya’s familiar Russian accent pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes to glare at him from her spot on the couch in her hotel room.

“Cab has arrived for us.” His hulking form stood in the doorway leading out to the hall. 

“How lovely,” She sighed and pulled herself up. Poor Illya had been at the receiving end of most of her grumpiness and general sour displeasure from dancing for 5 hours a day; which had now been bumped up to 7 in preparation for the recitals. 

Illya mostly ignored her tirades, but he oftentimes got bristly with her, understandably. Napoleon on the other hand liked to poke fun at her. He was having a hay day being able to go about and do whatever he wanted. He was meant to be acting as “Sabine’s” handler, so he had little reason to be around Gaby other than to see some of her practices here and there, have lunch on occasion, and make sure everything was to Sabine’s standards when prompted. In other words, he had the most time to do what the UNCLE team was brought in to do. Which was to locate where the clever mob boss, Antonov, stored his precious artifacts he planned on auctioning after the final ballet performance. He was a clever man. He ran a legit ballet company to attract wealthy patrons, meanwhile illegally collect many an interesting documents, paintings, and artifacts he then sold to the same unsuspecting patrons in his auction, or to his other wealthy cliente who knew exactly what they were buying, all while getting a nice dinner and a show out of it. All the UNCLE team needed was a particular piece of film. Whatever was on that film was nothing short of important, they were told. If it had gotten mass produced or into the wrong hands, it would mean a lot of trouble for a lot of people. 

Illya was able to do some spy work as well, but not to the extent that Solo was able to do. As “Sabine” had been having some unfortunate stalking incidents recently with her newly acquired fame, she and her handler had decided to hire a bodyguard while performing in Russia. That meant that Illya was with Gaby nearly all of the time. They even had a conjoined hotel room, sharing a small living room between their bedrooms. Their close proximity didn't bother Gaby, of course. In fact, she wouldn't have minded even closer proximity with the Russian spy. But as the mission dragged on and her days grew longer, she wished she could have just a moment alone. When she wasn’t dancing, she had also been tasked with trying to seduce Mr.Antonov. It took a lot out of her, and frankly got her nowhere. It didn’t help that Illya had to wait around for her as she toyed with him in his office, playing the part of an attention starved dancer protégé. That always made cab rides how somewhat awkward. Illya always refused to meet Gaby's eye and hardly said anything to her once they got back to the hotel rooms. Gaby often wished it was Illya's hands on her instead of Antonovs. To make their meetings bearable, though Gaby would never admit it, she would image it was Illya instead. But Antonovs hands were far to soft and much too rough. She wanted hands calloused from years of fighting, and the gentleness that Illya could only display with her.

Antonov He was a tough man to crack. Amiable enough, at least on the outside. Like any good mob boss, he was extremely private, so her attempts to woo him and find out any sort of helpful information were quickly squashed.

Gaby knew they were looking for a warehouse where Mr. Antonov and his Kuptsy gang kept all of their goods. Antonov tended to move his warehouse around between shows, and kept the locations under lock and key, both figuratively and literally. The extraction of UNCLES particular film would have to take place in just a few short days. After the final checks of the goods were done and right before the artifacts were all moved out for the auction. It was a large enough window, several hours at the least, so Gaby was confident they would succeed. She didn’t expect anything short of perfect success at this point. She didn’t ruin her feet again for nothing. 

Gaby gathered her bag from the foot of the couch and made her way slowly out of the room. Despite the gentle warmth of the day, Gaby still wore pale pink leg warmers to ensure her muscles were warm. 

“Let’s go.” She clipped, shutting the door behind her. Illya said nothing, and though it was only the beginning of the day, Gaby suspected he was already fed up with her based on the tightness of his jaw. 

The cab ride had been silent. Solo hadn’t joined them today, as he was spending his morning breaking and entering or doing whatever he does best. Gaby liked to call it shirking his duties as her handler. That wasn’t true, he was doing his job as an agent. But Gaby despised that he got the fun part of the mission while she and Illya were stuck playing dress up the whole day. Illya went out at night sometimes, mostly to help Napoleon track down the warehouse whereabouts or rough up some people. He always came back in a better mood after that. Sometimes Gaby got to dine with her fellow ballerinas at Mr.Antonovs large estate. She snooped as much as she could, but ultimately, she was feeling very useless on this mission. Her attempts to seduce had failed. She had never been caught snooping at his estate but she had never found anything she had been looking for either. She was convinced they would have been able to do it without her. 

As the cab rolled up to the company theater, Gaby watched the other ballerinas slowly filter in. Now was no time for a pity party. She could sulk later. Preferably in a nice warm bath with a glass of wine.

As Gaby reached for the door handle, She felt a hand grip her arm. She turned to meet Illya’s bright blue eyes. His jaw had relaxed now, and his brow was furrowed in concern. 

“It is almost over, little chop shop girl.” He said, and Gaby raised her brows, surprised to find he was speaking German. Although some of the words did not translate well.

“Laden hacken?” She smirked. “Hack store?” 

“It sound better in English.” Illya shrugged, dropping his hand, a small smile playing on his lips. Gaby’s eyes trailed it as it fell away.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the lingering warmth he left of her skin. “Thank you.” She said with a shallow sigh. Then she headed off for another full day of dancing. 

\---

By the time she was done, she found it curious that she did not spot Illya’s familiar shape in the theater seats. Mr.Antonov was talking quietly to a man that Gaby had only seen a few times. She strained to hear better, hoping to catch important fragments of the conversation. Perhaps the conversation was what had spurred Illya’s disappearance. She trailed closer, feigning looking for her bodyguard. What she could hear of the conversation was disappointing. Something about floral arrangements and decorations. Figures.

“Ah, Sabine,” Mr. Antonov looked up, suddenly noticing her standing around. “Is there something I can help you with?” His accent was similar to Illya’s but Gaby could pick up some lilting differences. He had grown up in Odessa, or so he had said, which resulted in his Ukrainian accent. Similar to Russian, but if you told Illya that he would get offended. 

“Hello Mr. Antonov… I am just looking for Illya. Have you seen him?” She put on her best concerned look, wringing her hands nervously. Sabine Scholz could not go anywhere without her bodyguard. He was her protection. 

Mr.Antonov was a large man, perhaps as tall as Napoleon, with dark hair too. Wild curls, and a boisterous personality that matched his size. You would think it would have been easy to swindle him, but the man was very good at what he did, and very good at making you think what he wanted you to think.

“And who is your friend here? Someone who works for the company?” Gaby flashed him a smile and held out her hand. “Sabine Scholz, how do you do.” She waited for the man to take it. He was significantly smaller than Mr.Antonov, not much taller than Gaby was herself. Skinny and wiry as well, but he exuded confidence much like Antonov. 

“I am well, Miss scholz. Quite well indeed.” He clasped her hand in both of his and shook animatedly. “My name is Ernie, I help with the auction. What’s this about a bodyguard?” The man’s accent, unlike Mr.Antonov, was curiously English. 

“Oh,” Mr.Antonov started before Gaby had the chance to open her mouth. “Sabine had unfortunate incidents involving a stalker just a short while ago. She and her handler decided to hire a bodyguard for her.” Mr. Antonov patted Gaby on the arm. “Poor thing can hardly go anywhere without him now.” 

Ernie was nodding his head, whispering ‘Ah,” In understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that Miss Scholz. I’m sure he is around somewhere. Maybe he just went off to the bathroom.”

Despite feeling slightly annoyed at the whole ordeal, she offered the men a shy smile. “Thank you, I am sure he is around as well.” She left the men standing in the auditorium, straining to hear more of their conversation as she left the building. Illya was not in the bathroom. He had snuck away quietly, because Gaby hadn’t seen him leave. She had grown used to his comings and goings by now. She frowned as she got into the main lobby. No Illya. Perhaps he had found some sort of lead. Mr. Antonov’s demeanor didn’t seem changed at all, so it was unlikely that he had lured Illya away, having become suspicious of the UNCLE team. 

“Well, this must be her.” An unfamiliar female voice startled Gaby from behind. She gripped her bag tighter as she whipped around to face the woman, surprised to find Illya standoffish by her side. Gaby narrowed her eyes. Illya’s were shining brightly but his features were hard to read. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Should I know you?” Gaby’s frown deepened.

The woman shook out her deep red hair. “Not yet. Illya, would you mind getting us a cab? We have more catching up to do.” She winked at him, not leaving her post leaned against the wall.

Gaby clenched her jaw, allowing her eyes to rove over the woman, sizing her up. Illya didn’t have to do anything she said. “Illya?” Gaby switched her gaze to her partner. His blue eyes refused to meet hers and he mumbled something before pushing off the wall and out of the theater. Her gaze whipped around to face the redheaded woman, who was watching her with a curious look.

“Hello,” The woman spoke. “You can call me Natasha.”

\---

The ride in the elevator felt more like it was descending into hell rather than simply going up a few floors. The cab ride had been even more awkward. Natasha seemingly had a habit of making herself comfortable wherever she ended up, lounging around like a cat. Now, she leaned coolly against the elevator wall, picking at her nails in a bored manner. Gaby swore that Illya hadn’t blinked this entire time, his blue eyes electric, never once leaving the floor. He seemed at ease enough, but Gaby didn’t extend the same trust to Natasha as he did. Her eyes roved over the woman again and again, trying to pick her apart. She didn’t look dangerous, in her shift dress and short red hair. Gaby supposed that was what made her most dangerous of all. Who knew what she was hiding in her boots, or under her dress.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal the wide hallway of their hotel. Natasha gestured for Gaby to lead the way, and she did haughtily. Before stopping at their own room, Gaby knocked briskly at Napoleon’s door.

“Just a minute,” His cool voice came from within. Gaby waited alone with her arms crossed as he opened it.

“Hello Sabine, I was just about to call and see if you were in.” He was smiling, wearing nothing less than a suit and tie, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Illya has a guest.” She said curtly and headed for the door Illya and Natasha had disappeared into, expecting Solo to follow.

“What _kind_ of guest? I really don’t think I should be intervening in his and your…”

Gaby flashed him a sideways glance, silencing him. “Apparently she’s from a previous op of his. Supposedly she worked with him in the KGB… She says she’s a friend of his.” 

They paused outside of the door, Solo not bothering to hide his smirk. “Judging by your tone, I’d say you don’t like her.” 

Gaby frowned. “Would you? She’s just showed up, claiming to know intel for the mission.”

“That is a bit concerning. Come on, let’s see _her_ then.” Solo was still smirking as he pushed open the door. Gaby was not impressed with him. Natasha was a woman, and that was besides the point. Women had outsmarted her boys in the past, she being one of them, she wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again. She was _not_ a jealous school girl. Natasha, true to her fashion, was lounging on the sofa, Illya standing opposite her.

“Hm…” Solo hummed quietly. “Well for starters, I wish _I_ had known her from a past op.” He told Gaby in a low voice.

Gaby, again, was not amused. 

“Peter Hargrove, how do you do.” He greeted, offering out his hand for her. When she accepted it, he raised it to his lips to press a swift kiss to it. It was all Gaby could do to not roll her eyes. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed, expressionless.

“I’m doing well, Mr. Hargrove, thank you.” Natasha was smiling as she used his name, and Gaby had the feeling that she knew his name was not really Peter Hargrove. 

“Well?” Gaby waved a hand, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Don’t you have something to tell us?” She fixed Illya with a pointed look. “Either of you.”

“Oh yes,” Natasha sat up straighter. “I’ve got a few things.”

\---

By the time she finished telling her story, Gaby couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or if she was just a very good agent. She scrutinized every word the woman said, trying to pick up on any tells she might have had. Gaby came up with nothing. Illya vouched for her as a KGB agent, that much was true. Then apparently she had gone undercover shortly after their last op together. She kept up appearances as best as she could while undercover, but she didn’t disclose much else about it. Top secret. Of course. And then, the absurdity of the story after that point led Gaby to believe that she was actually telling the truth. 

Illya was now sitting on the couch, looking thoughtfully at Natasha. Solo had taken up the chair opposite him, stroking his chin. Gaby still hadn’t moved from standing nearby.

“So,” Solo began. “You’re telling us that you work for a specialized group within the KGB… And you managed to sneak away from your undercover mission to come find… A book?”

“You don’t have to believe me, but I’m asking you to trust me.” Natasha was suddenly sober, and Gaby didn’t like the gravity on her face. “I know it’s a lot.”

“And you managed to locate the warehouse and it’s blueprints in the span of a few days.” Solo said expressionless, trying to understand it all.

“I’ve been trained by the best. You know Gaby, I was a ballerina once too. I suppose I technically still am.”

Gaby chose to ignore her comment. Ballet was going to be the only thing they shared. “Illya?” Gaby turned to him. “It’s your turn.” She wasn’t falling for her flimsy story, no matter how sincere she made it seem.

He continued to stare at Natasha, and Gaby didn’t like the look on his face either. “I trust you.” He finally broke his silence.

Gaby scoffed. “That’s all it takes then? A few well chosen words?”

Solo cleared his throat. “She has no reason to lie, it would seem. Unless there is something else the Kuptsy are keeping in their storehouse that you’re not telling us about.”

“All I want is that book.” She assured them. “I’d be getting it either way, with or without your being there. It was chance that I discovered Illya was working here as well.”

Solo nodded slowly. “My team and I can discuss it. We’re running short on time and options, so I wouldn’t mind some good old fashioned teaming up. It wouldn’t be the first time.” He grinned, and Gaby wasn’t sure to what he was referring to, but his pearly white teeth and shining eyes told her all she needed to know. Natasha’s smirk back was confirmation enough that she understood. 

Gaby glanced to Illya, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared with shining eyes at Solo. 

“Enough. You know valuable information, you are good spy. I trust you.” He repeated, and Gaby didn't like to hear those words come out of his mouth a second time.

“And what about the rest of us?” Gaby exasperated. 

“Don’t worry,” Natasha rolled her shoulders back. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll be a spider.”

\---

Another day had passed and Natasha had been true to her word, although Gaby was certain that Solo had seen a lot more of her, for more than one reason, than she had promised Gaby. Illya had been absent more so than usual as well. Gaby tried to reason with herself that tomorrow night is what they’ve all been waiting for, the reason for this whole miserable undercover mission, and Natasha would be gone. The fact that it had taken Natasha only a few days to figure out what took Gaby and her boys weeks to uncover made her nervous, and made Gaby feel somehow more useless than before. Natasha was a good agent, Gaby had no doubt. And that was what she was worried about. 

Today’s practice was short, and Gaby was thankful she could rest before the performance and mission tomorrow. Hopefully everything went smoothly, and Gaby wouldn’t have to don her ballet slippers ever again. Once her and Illya were back in the comfort of their hotel living room, Gaby decided to bring up a sore subject again.

“The mission is tomorrow.” She said coolly.

“Yes.” Illya nodded, not looking up from his chess game. 

“I don’t want you to go with Natasha.”

The chess piece he was holding clattered back down to the board. “She is a very good spy. I said I trust her. She goes on mission. We work well together.”

She regarded him with mild contempt, tilting her chin up to peer down at him. He met her gaze with an intense stare of his own. Clearly, he held Natasha in esteemed respect. He had worked with her before, and he trusted her. Gaby wasn’t so sure. Her first encounter with the redhead had gotten Natasha nearly shot. That she was a good spy, Gaby had no doubt. And that was also why she had some concerns. Why the boys were so eager to welcome her onto the team, Gaby didn’t know. But she suspected it had something to do with what was between their legs instead of between their ears. Victoria Vinciguerra had gotten the best of Solo once because of the same reason. And a few times after that. Solo had his shortcomings. So did Illya. He was a feral wolf, yet he followed his masters with blind faith. And Gaby? Perhaps hers was her lack of trust. Maybe that was why they made such a good team. Their flaws all evened each other out. 

Gaby made a haughty _hm_ noise at him, earning her an exasperated eye roll. He chose to ignore her otherwise and stood from his seat. 

“If you will not trust her, trust me then. " He averted his gaze. "Do you trust me?” He asked softly, as if scared for the answer.

Gaby rolled her tongue over her teeth. She knew the answer, but it felt strange to say it out loud.

“Yes.” She answered back, fixing him with an intense stare. "Yes, I trust you."

Illya swallowed hard, the corners of his mouth flickering up into a small smile. “And I trust you too. Mission will go well, I promise..." He began resetting his chess pieces, but Gaby had the feeling he wanted to say more. Still, she waited for him to make the first move. When the silence grew long, he finally spoke up.

"Why don’t I run you a bath, hm? You look very tired, you seem like you could use it. I make water very hot and put those flower petals you like in it, yes?” Illya gestured to the bathroom. He toyed with the chess piece in his hands, not sure what to do with them.

Gaby narrowed her eyes. “You’ve resorted to trying to bribe me now, is that it?”

Illya smiled shyly. “No. But if it helps, then yes.” He left her in the living room so he could begin her bath.

Gaby let her annoyed pretense fall away, watching him walk away. “I want some magazines too!” She called after him. He made a disgruntled noise, earning him a smirk from Gaby. She might not be easily swayed into trusting Natasha, but he was earning himself points in other departments whether he knew it or not.

  
  


\---

Gaby was nervous. Sabine on the other hand, was calm, cool, and collected; she was ready for a performance. Gaby was waiting for a mission to go wrong. As Gaby waited behind the velvet curtain, she ran through the plan again in her head as she warmed up.

Gaby and Napoleon were to stay for the show, Gaby of course didn’t have much choice in the matter. The show would last approximately two hours, hopefully giving ample time for Illya and Natasha to steal what they need and get to the rendezvous point. A restaurant, fancy enough. Popular too. They’d be seen there and no one would suspect a thing. By the time Solo and Gaby got there, Natasha and Illya would already be waiting for them. Perhaps sharing a drink or two, laughing about the old days together. 

Gaby made a sour face as she stretched.

Napoleon would have much rather broken into the warehouse. Larceny was his strong point after all. However, since Illya and Natasha had worked successfully in the past together, it was recommended that they steal the items together, much to Gaby’s displeasure. She didn’t trust Natasha, and the woman hadn’t given her any reasons _to_ trust her. Or distrust her either for that matter. On a good day, Gaby considered her neutral. She was suspicious most often, though Gaby couldn’t tell you why. At worst, Gaby despised her. The woman was a bother.

The plan was simple enough she supposed, straightforward. Illya could have done it by himself, he didn’t need Natasha. She could have waited at the hotel. Or perhaps went home and gotten her stupid book on a different day. 

Gaby continued her stretches, and then finally Mr.Antonov motioned for the girls to gather around, and everyone was up and getting into place.

\-----------------------

The ballet had gone predictably smoothly, and now came the hard part-- Waiting to see if Illya and Natasha had succeeded. 

The whole cab ride, Gaby was tense. She toyed with her fingers and watched the street lamps pass by. 

“Anxious about something?” Solo asked. 

Gaby flicked her annoyed gaze to him, finding him watching her with raised brows and a hint of a smile.

“I’ve had a long day.” She returned to the street lamps. 

“Yes,” Solo drawled. “It’s been rather boring for me I must say. Not a lot of action. I thought I was at least going to get to steal something at the end of this.”

“It is a good thing you didn’t do the stealing. Your pockets would have been a lot heavier when you left the warehouse.” Gaby scoffed.

“Hey, a boy’s got to make a living.” He shrugged.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of a well lit patio, several people already sitting down and enjoying their meals. “ _Pani ta ser_ ,” The driver said in Ukranian. 

“ _Dyakuyu_.” Solo smiled, handing him a wad of cash.

“I don’t see them.” Gaby was already out of the cab. “You knew I had a bad feeling about this.”

“Relax, maybe they went to the bathroom.” Solo, ever confident, strode up the hostess and began to talk with her in Ukrainian.

“Together?” Gaby said dubiously, and judging by the way the hostess began leading them to a table on the patio, their partners had never been to the cafe yet that night.

“Or well, maybe they went and parked somewhere.” Solo thanked the hostess and took his seat, taking care to order a few drinks already.

“I’m serious.” Gaby frowned. “They were supposed to be here already.” 

“At least let me finish my drinks, then we can go investigate if they still aren’t here.” Solo sighed, accepting his two wine glasses from the waiter. 

Gaby was not a patient person. Waiting for Solo proved it. Stealing a car also proved it. Gaby wanted to get to the warehouse fast. And it would appear that her impatience had paid off.

\---

“Smoke.” The panic was rising in Gaby’s voice. “Napoleon, it smells like smoke.” 

“I’ve gathered that.” He furrowed his brow. “In my experience, that can only mean one thing.”

Gaby waited impatiently as Napoleon picked the lock on the back door of the warehouse. “Yes, I think so too.” She hissed. 

“Somethings gone wrong.” He nodded. The lock clicked, and Napoleon pushed open the door. 

The building was dark, save for the dingy lighting of yellow storm lights spaced evenly on the plastered walls. The smell of smoke hung thick in the air, causing it to look hazy. The corridor was wide, but Gaby knew there would be a whole maze of them to sort through. 

“If this building really is on fire, it’s going to go up fast. There isn’t much solid structure holding it up.” Solo told her. “We can split up and try to locate Illya and Natasha. I’d say we have half an hour given the amount of smoke. Even less if the fire marshals come sooner... Damn, I liked this suit. I’m never going to get the smoke smell out…”

“ _N_ _apoleon.”_

He waved a hand. “30 minutes is just an estimation of how long the building would last. If there were any smoke detectors they would have gone off already, so that’s good.”

Gaby nodded, looking up and down the corridor. “I’m going.” She pushed past him into the smoky depths.

“Rendezvous two streets down, Fitz and Luzbeg.” Solo left her with that parting message and disappeared into the smog.

Gaby was going to kill Illya. And Maybe Natasha too, unless she had already burned up in the flames. Perfect for her hair. Gaby had yet to kill someone, and she didn’t like the idea of having to, but for Illya she would make an exception.

Solo and Gaby had a lot of ground to cover. It didn’t help that some cubicles were blocked off by large iron doors. Maybe Natasha had left Illya for dead in one of them. Gaby’s tactic now was to follow the smoke. The thicker the better, because that would lead her to the start of the fire. Most likely where her people of interest were. It didn’t take long to realize that the success of her plan was both a blessing and a curse. She heard the flames before she saw them. Crackling and spitting, and the heat blew straight into her. 

She wiped at her brow, already slick with sweat. The smoke stung her eyes, bringing her involuntarily to tears. She wanted to find Illya, but she prayed he wasn’t anywhere near the searing flames. Least of all burned up in the thick of it all. She was supposed to kill him, not the fire. At this point, it was nearly impossible to breathe, and she took in fitful breaths of smoky air, coughing as she did so. Still, she found herself opening her mouth to call out his name. Before she got a word out, a figure emerged from the flames, and for a moment, Gaby was hopeful. But the figure was far too small and sported too many curves. Gaby felt for the pistol at her hip.

“I’m sorry,” The figure spoke softly, taking another step closer to reveal her features. “I didn’t mean for it to end this way.” She didn’t seem menacing, which was difficult to achieve with the flames roaring behind her. In fact, Gaby observed, she may even be injured, as she favored one leg over the other. All the better to be able to shoot her.

“Where’s Illya?” Gaby coughed, pulling her gun free. Despite the heat of the flames, Gaby felt something cool surge through her, causing her fingers to tingle. “I knew we couldn’t trust you. And did anyone listen?” Gaby pointed the gun at Natasha. “Where’s. Illya.” She took another shaky breath and immediately regretted it, coughing a moment later.

“I said I didn’t mean for it to end like this. Illya was my friend…”

Gaby jutted her chin out. _Was?_ Was _Her friend?_ The cold was back, but for a different reason this time.

Natasha tossed something towards Gaby, and she moved to catch it. In her fingers she felt the smooth sides of a round metal case. The perfect size for a film. Gaby’s breath hitched in her throat.

“ _For a book?_ ” Gaby’s voice shook, and she motioned with the gun behind Natasha.

“I don’t expect you to understand. Or forgive me. It’s not just a book.” She caressed the cover of the book gently. A red leather notebook with a black star on it. “This...This is freedom.” 

“Move.” Gaby squeezed the gun tighter in her hand. “He is worth more to me than any mission.”

Natasha smiled sadly, a pained expression on her sooty features. “I know. _Pust' zemlya vy oba budet pukhom_. May the ground be soft for the both of you.” The spy said, and Gaby pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. Each time, the bullet struck metal, and the spy was gone.

The fire was keeping Gaby’s emotions at bay. She knew any sort of outburst would only make it more difficult to breath. 

“Illya!” She called out. She refused to believe anything that wrench had said. “Illya!” She tried again, another fit of coughs finding her. She stumbled down the hallway, catching herself on the wall. Her vision was beginning to get woozy, and her lungs ached maliciously. The flames licked up the sides of the walls, but still Gaby pressed on. 

Her legs were growing heavy, and a strangled cry finally managed to escape, the rest quickly tamped down. She would not die here, and the hope of finding anything left of Illya had died along with her cry.

She stumbled once more and found herself on the ground, where it was significantly easier to breathe. Still, she struggled to draw in breaths. That’s when she heard it: a faint cough somewhere off to her right. Followed by a weak whisper of her name.

“Illya?” She called again, suddenly reinvigorated by what she had just heard. Perhaps it was her hearing messing with her, but then again Gaby’s business was run off of taking chances. She began crawling in the direction of the sound.

Another cough. Closer this time. She forged through the searing heat, careful to avoid any debris on the ground. Through the smoke and light, she saw a figure, familiar and hulking, slumped against a wall miraculously untouched by flame. 

“Illya!” Gaby took a sharp breath and pushed herself from the ground to make up the distance quicker by running.

“You idiot. I’ll kill you, I swear I’ll kill you.” She shook her head rapidly, willing the cries to go away. Her tears were indistinguishable from those being caused by the fire and those from Illya.

He raised a hand out to her. “My little chop shop girl…” His breathing was raspy. “This is no place for a lady…” 

“I have never been quite what people expect.” She grasped his hand, thanking God and high heaven that he was alive and conscious. 

“No…” He shook his head, but allowed her to help him up. 

“ _Zatknis’._ I’m only saving you now so I can shoot you later.” She slung a sweaty arm over her shoulders, the fabric of his outfit singed and smoking.

“Come on. Move.” She commanded, struggling under his weight. He took a few heavy steps forward, and Gaby pulled him along.

“Gaby,” He coughed. “You cannot carry me out of fire.” He swayed, and somehow Gaby kept him upright.

“I’m doing just that now, aren’t I?” She wheezed. “Keep going.”

Illya took a few more steps and stumbled, this time Gaby couldn’t hold him up and the pair tumbled to the ground. 

“You,” He coughed weakly. “Keep going. Leave me, _please._ ” He went slack against Gaby’s body, and she vigorously tried to shake him awake.

“Illya, open your damn eyes.” She pleaded, tugging on his arm. She was not going to leave him here. He was more than a mission. She was better than Natasha. “Please, Illya.” She rasped, leaning her forehead against his. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there with him, trying desperately to pull him up. She heard something collapsed nearby, and a black hole opened up in front of her, a gush of cool air sucking out the flames.

Gaby’s eyes were heavy, her lungs ached. Illya’s limp arm was still slung around her.

And Napoleon Solo emerged from the flames in front her, his suit jacket missing, a determined look on his face. It didn’t take long for him to reach them, and somehow, between the two of them, they had the strength to carry their team out into the night air.

\----------

Gaby didn’t ever think she would see his blue eyes again. He had been coughing for nearly a whole day in fitful sleep. Gaby herself hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Now, she sat on the edge of the bed with him, using a wet rag to wipe away at the left over soot on his face and arms. She turned away to dip the rag into her water dish, and when she turned back around his eyes were open, and he was watching her. 

“Hello,” He rasped quietly. Gaby didn’t think he could manage a louder volume. She had been clutching the rag so tightly in her hand that she didn’t even realize that she had squeezed out all the water onto his bed sheet. Her hand shook as she dropped it.

“Illya,” She breathed, not trusting her own voice. She wasn't sure what she wanted to tell him, but she settled for an amalgamation of everything she was feeling. “I could slap you.” She traded the rag for his arm, instead holding it so tightly that he winced. 

Illya frowned, and Gaby raised her other hand. Illya’s arm shot out to catch her wrist, somehow still quick despite his state. 

“That is terrible greeting.” He informed her as he maneuvered to sit up. 

“I should be doing a lot more than slapping you.” She tried to wiggle her hand free. “The fire might not have killed you but you still have me to face.” She yanked her hand out of his grasp. She sucked in a shaky breath. She could still feel the smoke in her lungs. 

“I would not mind that.” He offered her a weak smile. 

Gaby clenched her jaw, trying to muster up the remains of the anger she had convinced herself she was feeling in order to hide her true emotions. The anger that had now dissipated into vapor at the sight of his ocean eyes. In one swift movement she struck a hand out and grasped Illya by his shirt collar, pulling him towards her. His eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing.

“You told me to leave you.” She hissed accusingly, hoping her shaky voice wouldn't give away her true feelings.

Illya’s eyes dropped down her hand, then back up to her face. “I could not have you die for me. You...You had to finish mission.”

Gaby tightened her hold on his collar. Like she told Natasha, she told Illya now: “You are worth more to me than _any_ mission.” She gave him a shake, feeling hot, angry tears begin to form despite her feeble attempts to will them away.

Illya’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment Gaby thought he might start crying too. A million emotions flashed across his stupid, beautiful face. It broke her heart to think that no one has said anything like that to him before. He was just a soldier. But not to Gaby. 

She let out a shaky breath, then yanked him forward, pressing her lips firmly against his. His teeth grazed her lips, and then they found a rhythm. No stars exploded, no angels sang. It was just Illya, and it was just Gaby. 

She let her fingers work their way under his collar, feeling the warmth of his skin. She pulled herself away to see him still sitting there with his eyes closed. In that moment she had never known anger, just peace and something warm in her chest that she could not put a name to. He finally opened his eyes again, those stupid, beautiful blue eyes, and smiled shyly at her.

Apparently, it was Solo too. “I...Hope I’m not interrupting something.” He said from the door. 

Gaby dropped Illya’s collar and turned to face Solo. 

“Nice to have you back, Peril. I’m glad to see you two are making up.” Gaby noticed that he held the film from the warehouse in his hand. He gestured towards the pair with raised brows and a “cheers” motion of the film. 

“I’ve got to say, you have looked better. Same to you, Gaby. When was the last time you slept? I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m not the one that has to kiss either of you.” He shrugged, earning him a smile from Gaby and pink cheeks from Illya. 

“Hello, Cowboy.” Illya cleared his throat and straightened out his pajama shirt. “I see mission was a success, then.” He nodded to the film. 

“Well, if you look past the betrayal of your friend," Solo began, earning him two matching frowns from his partners. "Then by all accounts,” He grinned at Gaby, who momentarily broke her scowl to roll her eyes and scoff. “Yes. Yes it was.”


End file.
